


Deserted

by doppeldonger



Series: Ships from the Borderlands [3]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 16:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10666437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doppeldonger/pseuds/doppeldonger
Summary: Fighting the demons from their pasts, Fiona and Timothy find peace in each other's company.





	Deserted

**Author's Note:**

> For valoscope.

She's having nightmares again.

Emphasis on "again" here, not just because the reality she's currently trapped in feels too off to be anything more than a figment of the games her tired brain is playing her, but also because she's having the same nightmare every night, over and over again. She's surprised, really, by now she should have gotten used to the feeling of being trapped, being mocked, being defeated.

As Handsome Jack's holographic face stares at her through the giant screens surrounding her, she grits her teeth and looks for an escape. Whether from the space station (that, in reality, crashed onto Pandora long ago) or the nightmare itself, she's not sure. She takes an anxious step back as she tries to put some distance between herself and the AI's greedy eyes, and she ends up tripping over something. A body.

Sasha's body, to be exact.

Despite being aware that this is still a nightmare, despite knowing she's forced herself to wake up countless times before, she ends up letting out an anguished, helpless cry.

"Why so sad over a useless bandit like her, pumpkin?" Handsome Jack's voice seems to boom in every direction, creating the illusion of him being inside her head. Fiona frowns and growls, hands curling into fists at her sides as the AI regards her with hunger hidden behind the mask of nonchalance. She wants to scream in his face. "That's my sister, you asshole!" she wants to object. But she doesn't. She can't. What good will that do to her, to Sasha? Her sister's long gone, and Fiona is imprisoned, helpless as a deer stuck in a lion's sharp jaws. She falls to her knees, almost kneeling in mock fashion.

Handsome Jack is giddy like a spoiled kid playing with his favorite toy, "That's right, kiddo. Kneel before me." He lets out a dark chuckle. "I'd say 'Blow me while you're down there.' but... you know." He makes a vague gesture with his hands, ignoring Fiona's bruised ego thanks to his comment.

She raises her head, glaring daggers at him with wet eyes. There's renewed vigor in her muscles as she slowly rises and lets out a bellow, "I am not your whore, you fucking bastard!" And with that, she's running towards one of the screens, fist raised to hit the asshole in the face.

She knows her action makes no sense, she really does. But then again, this is just a bad dream and it's in her hands to change the course of events.

Through the cracked screen, Handsome Jack seems to vibrate with amusement as an arrogant smirk graces his sharp features. "Wake up."

His frantic voice sounds awfully out of place. She doesn't notice, and throws another punch relentlessly.

"Hey, hey! Fi, wake u- oof!"

There's pain blooming in her right hand, originating from the knuckles and slowly spreading through her whole hand and forearm. A welcoming pain, as she's back to the world of the living.

She's still not over the abusive man in her nightmares however, so it is only natural that in her sleep disoriented and horrified state, seeing a pair of mismatched eyes watching her through the darkness like a hawk makes her snap, out of genuine fear rather than anger. Her whole body is shaking, pulse reverberating through her body, blood rushing through her ears and making her near-mute for a moment. Then she opens her mouth, and she screams.

Handsome Jack's eyes are as wide as saucers as he scrambles back until his back hits the makeshift wall of the tent. He puts a hand to his cheek, whimpering slightly and swallowing hard. He's as terrified as Fiona. And that thought snaps the woman back to reality.

Handsome Jack does not feel fear. Handsome Jack is not humane enough to do so. And Handsome Jack is very, very dead.

Fiona's hand drops to her lap, fear-induced sweat adorning her forehead as she tries to get a hold of her frantic breathing. "Tim..." she begs, her voice but a whisper among the cold night winds of the Pandoran night.

The man simply shakes his head in a manner that shows he's most probably going through a panic attack and gets up, leaving the tent hastily. Fiona mentally curses at herself, knowing well that he did nothing wrong and yet Fiona hurt him. Just because he looked like the abuser visiting her dreams every night.

Night air hitting her dark olive skin and raising goosebumps all over her body, she leaves the tent and makes her way to her vault hunting partner who's currently busy building a fire a few feet away from the tent. She sits by the fire, facing Timothy, "Hey." She's trying to sound relaxed, she really is; neither of them is buying it, though.

"Uh... hey." Timothy sounds so small, so fragile that it hurts Fiona's heart. He is so unlike Jack in every respect, yet he managed to freak her out; and the worst of all is that he knows.

"I was just having a nasty dream and lashed out on accident." she explains, running a hand through her hair and slicking it back, away from her face. "I just thought... Nevermind." The confession does not escape her lips, but a heavy sigh does; and Timothy knows what she refrains from saying.

"The way you looked at me back there... shit, the way you're still looking at me right now isn't something I can not mind, is it." It's not a question, and despite trying to hide his broken heart in the guise of working on the already-lit fire, Timothy sounds crestfallen and angry at the same time.

"Look, I'm just..."

_I'm sorry._

"What?" But no matter how hard she tries, Fiona can't seem to get the words out. It's only expected- living on such a shitstain of a planet with people waiting to backstab you behind every corner, it is not an easy task to wrench sentences like "I'm sorry." or "Thank you." from the con woman.

"Just wait here, alright?" she ends up saying, quickly making her way back to the tent with an unhappy "As if I could go anywhere." addressed to her. She returns in less than a minute, this time settling right in front of the former doppelgänger with a first aid kit snug in her hands.

"Just sit tight, alright? I think I fucked up your cheek a little."

That earns her a bitter smile, "Why not leave it like that? My face can't creep you out more anyway." The words hurt, but Fiona's not the one to judge- her actions led to this in the first place. She refrains from answering and for a couple of minutes, silence keeps them company. She adamantly keeps her gaze on Timothy's bruised cheek, feeling his eyes bore into her, not with the anger or fear from before, but with tired acceptance.

She sighs. Raises her eyes and meets his sad gaze with her steely one. Giving him a tiny smile, she gently pets his cheek, noticing how Timothy can't help but lean into the touch.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Tim." she says slowly, timidly, almost. "Jack haunts my nights and you had to wake me up at this particularly nasty part of my nightmare... It wasn't your face that scared me, everyone knows how unlike him you are and I'm no exception." In the bright amber light coming from the fire, Timothy's face softens, the crease between his brows lessening. "I'm just... not an easy person when it comes to showing emotions, to... caring. Everyone I care ends up hurt or hurting me, and I've had so few exceptions to this that I... I'm just sorry, alright? I couldn't stop myself from hitting you and now you're upset and mmffh-!"

The rest of the sentence is muffled by Timothy leaning forward to plant a chaste kiss on Fiona's lips. Realizing what he has done, he makes a move to lean back; but Fiona's hand behind his head, only to be followed by her lips on his stops him in his tracks.

Later into the night, the duo heads back to the tent to get (unknowingly, to them) the best and most peaceful sleep they've gotten in the past two years.

 

 


End file.
